seeds
Connecting to the wild is one way I’ve always centered myself.
Being close to the ocean—the wind and the waves—gives me an immediate sense of security, closure, and comfort.
It’s one of the reasons I chose where I am currently situated in Istanbul: I wanted to be close to the seaside to drop anchor.
Choosing such an expansive, pulsing, ever-changing environment to feel grounded may seem counterintuitive. Yet, it’s where I feel most alive and reassured.
I grew up in the Prairies. When I imagine the wide, flat, golden fields, it’s much like the desert landscapes I’ve experienced in my travels. The spaciousness conjures feelings of aloneness; flatlands remind me of the spiritual path I walk alone.
This week, I’ve considered the wild and urban environments that inspire me as I design my home.
I don’t have furniture, though I do have an orange tree I’ve named Azahar. Bringing greenery into my home felt essential to bless the space and keep me company.
As I brushed the plant leaves and fruit free of dirt with a wet cloth the other evening, I was reminded of a story about Siddhartha.
In the tale, Siddhartha bows to the ground and touches the Earth. As he kneels, he says, “May the Earth be my witness.”
When he finishes speaking, the Earth shudders. There is a mini quake; the ground trembles in response to the invocation.
Siddhartha feels the sacred tremor and takes this as a sign that he has found his seat.
This story captures the moment Siddhartha becomes the Buddha.
I am waiting for the tremor; that moment the universe sighs and gives you a sign that you are in your seat.
Currently, my seat faces north in the largest room of my home. The lightbulbs are bare, the wooden floors are flecked with paint (no matter how hard I scrub), and the windows are without curtains.
I’ve established a spot for my altar and yoga mat beside Azahar. When the sun sets, the room glows a soft pink, and I can see the black swallows sweeping through the sky.
It’s immensely exciting to design a new living space, and it’s challenging to organize - especially in another language.
Practices keeping me grounded:
Chanting the Mul Mantra - the root formula to express the sacred.
I did not know the full meaning when I chose this song; I just liked how it felt in my body!Sleeping with a scarf tied around my eyes and a small sandbag pillow on my chest.
Massaging my feet and doing footwork exercises.
I used to wear ankle weights around my home to feel weighted and connected to the Earth.Cooking root vegetables with rice.
I’ve allowed my daily writing discipline to lag. Instead, I’ve been lying on the floor to do visualization practices instead of editing as I usually do to close my day.
And, of course, I’ve been going on long strolls by the sea (with the Cats of Istanbul) when the weather permits to feel the sunshine on my face!
Sending you a bright and warm blessing,
Sera
Poem
June 2022
On Sundays, I purchase flowers from the metal stand on the corner. The man with round glasses recalls moments of his youth between bouquets, crushing dystopian sadness.
Lust is nonsense when you have your hands full of petals.
He blesses the buds four times before he hands them to me. Augoeides: the radiant body. I walk home with the scent of wet damascene roses. It lingers on my skin.
A memory of myself as a child surfaces. I’m ten, and the pond had dried up behind our cabin. We discovered fat leeches suckling in the mud, seeking a lifeline. I was content to watch their dissolution, but my sister retrieved a bowl and spoon and moved them into a larger lagoon.
Truth is simply a matter of confronting problems and finding new ways to invigorate life.
I scorned my sister for disrupting the cycles. She thought I was cruel for wanting to witness a little death. Vitality and validity: we only acquire memory by assimilating our experiences of the past with the present.
When I arrive home, I hang the flowers from their stems. I prefer their faces peering down at me from way up high.
As the flora strip, the air flutters mulberry silk.
By Seraphina
“A Writer’s Take On Writing:”
Margaret Atwood -
"Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow.”
Currently-
What I’m reading:
◇ Women of Wisdom by Lama Tsultrim Allione.
What I’m looking at:
◇ Artwork Hilda Klint - the Swedish artist who hosted séances and spoke to the Divine through her paintings.
What I’m listening to:
◇ Kundalini - Seed, a curated playlist on Spotify.
Quote of the Week:
The way to maintain one's connection to the wild is to ask yourself what it is that you want. This is the sorting of the seed from the dirt. One of the most important discriminations we can make in this matter is the difference between things that beckon to us and things that call from our souls.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
4 questions to brew on:
Where is your seat? What does this metaphor mean to you?
Where is your wild?
What are a few of the practices that give you a sense of security and place in the world?
What is beckoning to your soul - your higher self?
